


More Than The Garden Of Eden

by rummyjoe



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, I don't know., Tony Stark's version of one night stands, Where are the other Avengers?, post Pepper/Tony breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1949403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rummyjoe/pseuds/rummyjoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony sleeps with a series of women to get over Pepper. He and Natasha have a series of discussions afterward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than The Garden Of Eden

**Author's Note:**

> I spruced up another almost-finished Avengers thing I found languishing in my fic draft folder. Hope you like it!
> 
> (Thank you, Amy, for your extensive help way back when I wrote the draft, and just now with the finishing touches.)

_You have a call, sir._

"Put it through on speaker."

_Yes, sir._

"Yeah," Tony said shortly, his concentration centered on the schematic in front of him.

"Hi, um, my name is Brandi?" an uncertain female voice sounded in the lab. "Is this Tony Stark?"

'Depends. How did you get this number?"

"You signed an autograph for me?" She paused. "You wrote ‘Call Me’ on it?"

 

_He’d met her outside the Tower yesterday. She was in the morning crowd of autograph seekers gathered on the sidewalk, her platinum blonde hair a severe contrast with the cherry red earmuffs she’d been wearing._

_"Can you make it out to Brandi?" she’d asked in a raspy voice. "With an I?"_

_"There you go, Brandi-with-an-I," he had winked as he handed the paper and pen back to her._

_She'd looked down at the paper, then back up at him with a promising smile._

 

"I’m sorry," her voice broke into his reverie. "I shouldn’t have called. I’ll -"

"No, I told you to call," he turned away from the schematic he’d been studying. "Are you free tonight?" He considered the picture of her he had in his mind – red earmuffs and puffy down jacket, asymmetrical white-blonde hair with a streak of pink in it. "There’s a new club that just opened; they’ve been sending me bribes to stop in."

"I have a busy evening, but...maybe I could meet you?" she asked the last with a hopeful note.

"Sure thing. Clubs don’t get hopping until later anyway, right?"

He gave her the name of the club, told JARVIS to remind him about the date later, and went back to work.

He woke up late the next morning, alone. He'd sent Brandi home the night before, just like all the others.

He took a shower & stumbled down to the common kitchen for some coffee. The machine in his own kitchen made a far superior brew, but he had avoided spending much time alone in the Penthouse since Pepper had left.

Him. Left _him_.

He was brooding into his second cup when Natasha came in. Tony couldn’t help admiring the lines of her body as she stretched by the counter while waiting for her own cup to fill.

"Late night?" she asked with a grin as she settled onto the stool next to him.

"Kinda." He didn’t feel much like talking.

He startled when her finger darted toward his eye.

"Relax," she smirked, holding him still with one hand on his shoulder. "You have some glitter right..." his left eye fluttered shut when her fingertip touched his lashes, " _there_." She chuckled softly, her breath tickling Tony’s cheek. "Really, Stark? Body glitter? Was she at least out of high school?"

He threw her an exasperated look as she leaned back away from him. "Mid 20s." He pursed his lips, looking at her through narrowed eyes. "Probably."

"Still a bit like robbing the cradle, if you ask me," she said lightheartedly.

They drank the rest of their coffee in companionable silence.

\----------------------

Jacqueline was an enthusiastic reporter who contacted Tony for an interview. She got through two questions before Tony decided he didn't like the subject, so he asked a question of his own, and they were sidetracked for the rest of the night.

"She must have a strenuous interviewing process," Natasha observed when Tony trudged into the kitchen mid-morning.

Tony breathed a small chuckle and took his usual seat next to her.

"Which was it, your past ladyloves, or your father?" The reporters always asked the same questions.

"She wanted to know about my mother, actually," Tony said quietly. "About the Foundation, what they do, her legacy, if she would approve of how the Foundation is being run these days."

"Ah, feelings." Natasha nodded her head knowingly. "So you had to distract her. For six hours."

Tony smirked. "She was very distractible."

"Yes, I think all of Manhattan heard how easily distracted she was."

"I heard it," Clint said as he walked in and made a beeline for the fridge. "All of it, and I’m two floors away. Do you do that Sting yoga or something?"

"It’s my strict health regimen," Tony answered before taking a huge bite of a cheese Danish. "Haven’t heard any complaints."

"Me either," Natasha laughed at the smug grin on Tony's face.

"Neither have I," Clint said as he set a yogurt, a cold piece of leftover pizza, and a bunch of grapes on the table, "but that’s probably only because I’ve never met any of them. How can I live vicariously through the manslut of Avengers Tower if I don’t know what any of your women look like?"

"I use my private elevator," Tony shrugged. "No competition that way. Don’t want any of them pining away for Captain Tightass if we have to stop and pick him up on our way to the Den of Iniquity."

"You could always have a threeway," Clint said between spoonfuls of yogurt. "Might make some nice girl’s dream come true."

"Please stop talking about Steve Rogers and threeways!" Tony covered his ears. "It’s going to get stuck in my head...oh god there it is! Now I’ll never be able to unsee it."

"Hmmm," Natasha said before stealing one of Clint’s grapes and popping it into her mouth.

\----------------------

He met Lizzie the animal rights activist after she threw a bucket of paint on him and his brand new Armani when he was entering the Tower. A group of protesters wearing black hoods had camped out for two days after MSNBC ran an inflammatory report of Stark Industries torturing animals for research.

He’d stopped the police from arresting the masked assailant and had given an on-camera rebuttal to the false story. It had been wonderful PR for SI; for three whole days, video of Tony defusing the situation and inviting the mystery woman inside for an amends-making cup of coffee ran on every news station.

Tony tried to get the red paint out of his hair for all three of those days, never succeeding until after Natasha joined him at breakfast and sat a bottle of smelly, girly shampoo down next to his plate.

"Just how much coffee can one person drink in seventeen hours?" Natasha asked as she tucked into a croissant and fruit salad.

"You'd be surprised," Tony looked up from his study of the shampoo bottle's label and winked at her.

"It is helping?"

He didn't bother pretending he didn't understand the question. "Not really? I mean, I don't think about Pepper every second of every day, but it, uh." 

"You're not ever going to stop loving her, but the sex helps." She chewed a bite of pineapple before continuing. "Do it enough, and your relationship with her will eventually start to lose focus, and you can move on."

"You're speaking from experience." It wasn't a question.

She shrugged. "Just because I don't talk about my past doesn't mean I don't have one."

\----------------------

"Heard the screamer again last night. Or was it a new one?" Clint asked around a mouthful of chocolate donut.

"Same one," Tony replied as he sat down with his coffee. "Had some new ideas, needed quantifiable feedback."

"She ask you about your mother again?" Natasha leaned down and gave Clint a peck on the cheek as she passed, then sat down next to Tony.

"Nah. This was strictly pleasure." He waggled his eyebrows at her exaggeratedly.

"Why _don't_ you talk about your mother, Tony?" Clint asked, ignoring the fact that Natasha was stealing half the food off his plate. If Tony tried that, his hand would be speared with a fork.

"Dunno." He shrugged. "She was a regular mother. Or as regular as a Stark can be, you know?"

"Not really," Clint said. "Didn't have one for very long." He stood and cleared his dishes. "See you for sparring in a little while," he tugged on the ends of Natasha's hair, retribution for the purloined food.

Natasha slapped at Clint, who scooted out of the room to safety. 

"I don't remember my mother," she said quietly, after she'd turned back to Tony.

"Yeah, I guess that's - I didn't think of that. Sorry." He took another sip of his coffee.

"Don't worry about it." She took a bite of cold french fry.

"She was...nice," Tony glanced at Natasha before dropping his eyes back down to his coffee cup, winced. "God, that's a shitty word to describe her. She was beautiful. Caring. She wasn't always around the house because she was busy, but when she was there, she was a pretty good mother. I mean," he shrugged, "I didn't have anything to compare her to, but I remember when I was little, she gave me lots of hugs and told me she loved me a lot, so...there's that."

"That does sound nice, actually," Natasha said.

"She would have liked you," Tony said after a moment.

Natasha raised an eyebrow as she ate another french fry.

"No, really," Tony continued. "She liked women like you. She and Peggy got on really well. I think she wished sometimes that she could do more than be a society wife."

"Peggy as in Agent Carter Peggy?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe you should go talk to her," Natasha suggested in a gentle voice. "Steve said she asks about you."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Tony sighed. "It's stupid, but after my mom died, I kinda secretly considered Peggy my stand-in mom. I didn't get to see her much, but she was always nice to me like my mom was and I..." He paused and took a long breath. "If she saw the mess I am now, I wouldn't be able to handle the disappointment."

"I think she'd be proud of you."

Tony didn't ask which 'she' Natasha meant because he wasn't sure which one he meant. He brushed it off and instead asked, "When did you turn into my psychiatrist?"

She gave him a soft smile. "It's all part of my personal mission."

He grunted and finished what was left of his coffee.

\----------------------

He met Catherine at a gallery thing he went to with Steve and Clint, more to just get out of the house than from any desire to socialize or look at art. She wore impossibly high heeled shoes and an incredibly low cut dress. Tony was instantly smitten.

She glanced his way a couple of times, half-lidded eyes smoldering through brunette bangs, but she never approached him. He asked an acquaintance to introduce them, and the rest of the night was spent in a corner getting lost in her accent.

The next morning, Tony tried out some of the Russian phrases Catherine had taught him at the gallery. Natasha laughed, then corrected his pronunciation.

Catherine became the first person Tony saw regularly since Pepper had left.

He still didn’t trust anyone to stay with him while he slept even with the arc reactor removed, but she didn’t make a fuss. She'd lie there for a while each time they finished, then kiss him on the forehead before getting out of bed to find her clothes.

The morning after their tenth date, Natasha asked if he was going to introduce his new girlfriend to the team.

"She’s going home next week," was all he said.

Natasha’s hand was warm on his arm. Comforting. "I’m sure she’ll come back."

"Nah, we’re just having a little fling." He sullenly pushed half a sausage link around in the syrup left on his plate.

"On to the next one?"

"I think I’m done with the dating experiment," he said, concentrating on the patterns he was drawing though the syrup.

They sat there for a while, not eating and not talking. Finally, Tony broke the silence.

"How’s the latest mission?"

"Should be wrapped up soon."

"Good. That’s...good." She was looking at him too intently for his taste. He got up and tossed his plate into the sink, didn’t turn back when he heard it break.

\----------------------

Rhodey was in town a couple months after Catherine had shipped off back to the motherland. Tony decided a celebratory night on the town was just the thing to keep from feeling sorry for himself.

Veronica was the bassist in a punk band whom Tony met at the club they ended up staying at the longest. He hadn’t planned on bringing anyone home that night, but when 3 AM rolled around and the club closed, Rhodey took a cab back to his hotel ("I will be keeping myself as far away from the crazy as I can," he'd replied when Tony asked him, for the twenty-third time, to just stay at the Tower.), and Tony took Veronica back to the Penthouse.

The ride back was spent doing anything and everything possible while still remaining clothed (at Veronica’s insistence). They continued through the garage and into the elevator, where Tony discovered that fishnets with garters were all that Veronica was wearing under her short skirt.

He was three fingers deep and not paying attention to anything but the way she held her breath as she came when Barton’s voice startled him on his way out, "I guess I’ll just leave you to it, then."

Tony hadn’t even noticed him getting onto the elevator.

Veronica froze, apparently not having noticed Clint either. She hid her face in Tony’s neck, her muscles contracting around his fingers a second time. She was muttering under her breath, "ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod," but he was pretty sure it wasn’t an exclamation of bliss.

The doors opened on the Penthouse. Tony exited the elevator and turned to find Veronica straightening her clothes.

"I think I’m going to just..." She avoided looking at him.

"Yeah," was all he said before he reached back in to hit the button for her.

He watched the elevator doors shut, then made his way to the bedroom. He flopped onto the bed, undid his fly and got himself off with still wet fingers.

\----------------------

The next morning, Clint was in the kitchen when Tony stumbled in. He prepared himself for commentary on what had happened in the elevator, but Clint was uncharacteristically silent.

Tony had just sat down and taken his first bite of Frosted Flakes when Natasha came in.

"Morning, boys," she called as she headed straight for the coffee. She filled her cup and paused on her way out to leave a soft peck on Barton’s upturned cheek, ruffling his hair before breezing back out of the room. Tony’s eyes followed her until she was out of sight, jealousy burning inside him.

He wanted that. He wanted the casual affection and comraderie. Someone to talk with in the evening. Someone to wake up beside in the morning. He hadn’t allowed himself to miss that after Pepper had walked out of the Penthouse; it was easier to pretend that Tony Stark didn’t need anything but sex from a woman. But now, seeing the easy way Clint and Natasha were with each other...

His stomach turned heavy like a rock. He dropped his spoon back into the bowl, no longer hungry.

"You should ask her out for dinner."

"What?" Tony looked up to find Clint staring at him. He sat there, not sure what to say.

"When she walked in, your face lit up like she was gatorade and you just spent three weeks crawling through the desert." Clint gestured toward Tony’s left hand. "And ever since she kissed me, you’ve been sitting there trying to not punch me."

He looked down at his hand, balled into a fist he hadn’t realized he’d made.

"Anyway," Clint continued as got up from the table, "ask her. Don’t tell her I said this, but I’d say it’s a sure bet she’ll say yes." He winked, then left Tony to wonder whether the secrets of the universe could be found in his soggy Frosted Flakes.

\----------------------

Around noon, Tony wandered out of his lab and down toward the training gym. Natasha spent most of her off days in there, sparring or – he wasn’t sure what else she did, really. Steve was heading toward the showers when he entered. It took him a second to locate Natasha, lying on her back on the sparring mat, breathing hard.

"Hey," he said as he approached. She continued to stare at the ceiling.

He dropped down to the mat beside her and rolled onto his back. She turned her head and looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Figured there was something interesting up there," he gestured toward the ceiling, "but I'm not really seeing anything. Kinda boring actually. JARVIS?"

_Yes, sir?_

"Get some information about ceiling murals for me to look at later."

_Of course, sir._

Tony caught Natasha rolling her eyes, but the expression on her face was amused. "What do you want, Tony?"

"Do... I -" He took a breath and started again. "Are you free for dinner?"

"I thought you were done with dating," she said carefully.

"Yeah, that’s the thing. I, uh, really hate being alone. And I was hoping -"

"Where do you want to meet up this time?" she asked.

“I don’t want to meet up!” he said, a little more forcefully than he intended. "Sorry, sorry. I just - I don't want to be your 'personal mission' anymore. I want to pick you up at your door, drive together to a restaurant, and have dinner with _you_. Natasha Romanoff, not Brandi-with-an-I or Jamie the Irish pub girl or whatever the hell punk rock girl’s name was."

"Veronica," Natasha supplied with a small grin.

"Veronica. Whatever." Tony glared at the ceiling, angry at it for being so boring.

"Seven."

"Hmm, what?" Maybe a bullseye pattern, across the ceiling and all the walls; he and Clint could have target practice down here.

"Pick me up at seven," Natasha said, getting to her feet. "Don’t be late."

"I won’t."

Tony stared at the ceiling and listened to her footsteps fade. He continued to stare as what had just happened finally sank in.

"You OK, Tony?"

"Huh?" Tony eloquently replied, Steve's voice having startled him out of his contemplation. He realized he was grinning like an idiot, which just made him grin more. He raised his hand and waved it back and forth.

"Natasha got ya, huh?" Steve took the hint and grabbed Tony's hand, pulling him upright with almost no effort.

Tony laughed as he got to his feet. "Yeah, I think you could say that."

**Author's Note:**

> title from "She's Always A Woman" by Billy Joel
> 
>  
> 
> edited to add: It was brought to my attention that the story isn't clear enough in explaining that all of the women Tony was dating were actually Natasha, so I guess here's a note?


End file.
